


Tuyo - A Mamma Mia Inspired Fic

by aphrxdite



Category: Diego Luna - Fandom, Oscar Isaac - Fandom, Pedro Pascal - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mamma Mia inspired, Multi, Probably will be chaotic, Who's The Dad, reader is in for a ride holy fuck, smut?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrxdite/pseuds/aphrxdite
Summary: AN: I don't have a summary yet so here's the chaotic version!Y/N hated College... everything about it was dreary, her courses bored her, and quite frankly she felt as though she was wasting her youth in the establishment. Until one day, she meets her new professor (Pedro) and decides to graduate and move abroad where she meets the charming musician Oscar Isaac in Guatemala.Oscar is like a breath of fresh air for Y/N, and she instantly falls in love with him, only for his work to separate them and send her into the arms of Diego, a local doctor with a remedy for heartbreak.(A mamma mia inspired fit involving our favourite space latinos!)
Relationships: Diego Luna/Reader, Oscar Isaac/Reader, Pedro Pascal/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Tuyo - A Mamma Mia Inspired Fic

When you first woke up, you noticed how cold your room was, and that the soft winter sunlight crept through your flimsy blinds and hit you straight in your tired, heavy eyes. At a first glance, your room looked well-maintained, the cheap dormitory furniture was well kept, and you had posters covering most of the discrepancies within the queasy yellow paint which looked as though it had been slathered on the wall by a two-year-old. Of course, being a student, most of your papers were carpeting the cold floor, the crusty brown carpet underneath had been stained by all sorts of substances, which caused a horrid, lingering smell to perfume your residence.

But hey, it was the cheapest option on campus, so there you were, wrapped up in your Vincent Van Gogh inspired 'Starry Night' bedding. It had been a gift from your aunt, if you remembered correctly, and it was quite possibly your favourite reminder of home - the tiny midwestern hometown you'd outgrown by the time you could walk. You were constantly told that you were 'destined for much bigger things', which prompted the whole idea of studying Classic Literature in an upstate-New York University. 

Your hand, littered with smudged poetry and a very arbitrary 'To-Do List', dragged across your forehead, smudging any residue of makeup from the previous night's frat party. The Cappa-Beta-Bullshit named Fraternity house had decided to host a Greek themed party, and you were still wearing your Toga, something you so badly regretted considering how cold it was in your dorm right now.

On your bedside table, a few inches away from your face, sat your dead mobile phone, the black screen cold as stone as you furiously tapped it with your fingers. "Damnit!" you cursed, your breath billowing before your face like a speech bubble as you sat up violently quick, your head spinning and ringing loud as the bass from last nights music bounced around your brain. Everything felt like slush in your skull as you struggled to stand and grab your laptop to check the time, stumbling over a play-text as you did so.

"You know what, fuck you, Shakespeare!" Your voice was hoarse as you pressed the spacebar on the laptop, the computer rumbling to life and printing the time on the screen for your eyes to read.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck..._

Half an hour late and only just waking up for one of Professor Pascal's Shakespeare readings, one where Sarah would no doubt be sat on the front row, eyes glued to the unfortunately attractive professor who had the painful habit of locking eyes when reading all of the romantic confessions between Romeo and Juliet. God, you could just feel the way his chocolate brown eyes would drape over you luxuriously as he pulled his glasses down his perfectly crooked nose to only say, "My bounty is as boundless as the sea. My love as deep; the more I give to thee. The more I have, for both are infinite," and fuck - you just wanted him to say it all _to_ you, rather than acting as Romeo.

You slung your laptop into your bag and grabbed the wretched book and placed it between your teeth whilst you attempted to pull up your jeans and rip the Toga clean off of your freezing cold body. Only a few more minutes and you would be _horrendously_ late. The Toga was now on the floor, your bra still on your chest, miraculously, and you pulled one of the University branded hoodies over your head and redid your hair so it looked somewhat presentable.

"You know what they say," you started whilst looking at the poster of William Shakespeare on your wall, "last night's mascara is this morning's smokey eye," you joked, and then immediately cringed the moment you turned your back to the centuries-dead poet. Poor man, having to listen to all this Drabble you came up with.

Without a second thought, you dashed out of your room and started the five minute sprint to the lecture hall.

* * *

"Nice of you to join us, Miss L/N," The Literature Professor commented, his eyes still glued onto the book sat open in his large hand. Your face went bright red with embarrassment which was married with the exertion you'd just put out to not be forty minutes late, "You're only..." he checked his wristwatch, "thirty-five minutes late to my class," he spoke with such an authority that your heart sank to your stomach.

Your words failed you as you tried to make an excuse, "I'm... Sorry, _sir,_ I really am... hungover... last night I was-," he cut your rambling off by raising his hand, such a simple gesture for an elegantly powerful man. Only now did he look at you, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement as he stood before you, his thumb now holding his place in the book whilst your eyes scanned for the blonde head of hair that only Sarah possessed.

"As a _punishment_ for being late, would you care to join me in acting out this scene?" He asked you, though you knew better than to assume there was any option of refusal, "Act Five, Scene 3, Romeo has just slain Paris," he spoke to the class, now, and you set your bag down by his mahogany lectern, the dead weight of your laptop causing a hollow thud to echo through the room. 

You were certain your breath was going to fail you, "Act it out?" you queried.

Professor Pascal nodded, and extended his spare hand for you to take, "You are Juliet," he reaffirmed, and waved over a classmate you had seen a handful of times, "and you, are our dashing Paris,"

The ginger boy he had called upon laid on the floor, as instructed, and your professor held him in his arms.

"If thou be merciful, open the tomb... lay me with Juliet," The student acted out, and you understood that at this point in the play you were acting as though you had died. So you laid on the three elevated chairs the Professor had stood in the centre of the floor, and you shut your eyes with your copy of the play secured on your breasts.

You heard Professor Pascal moving, and it was that he had picked the student up, and began to walk into the Tomb whilst giving his monologue, he spoke so beautifully, and you wondered if he had previously acted.

"He told me Paris should have married Juliet. Said he not so? Or did I dream it so? Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, to think it was so?" he paused, and you felt a breeze brush past your leg, the ghost of his movements caressing you whilst he put the student to rest, "O, give me thy hand, one writ with. me in sour misfortune's book! I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave." The emotion in his voice was astounding, it was as though he was really Romeo, and that meant you would have to redeem yourself as his Juliet.

"A grave?" he continued, "O no, a lantern, slaught'red youth; For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes this vault a feasting presence full of light." his hand brushed past yours as he walked behind the altar you laid upon, the chairs providing an uncomfortable resting place, "Death, lie thou there, by a man interred,".

He moved to the front of the stage, now talking directly to the audience, and you were paralysed in how passionate he appeared, you didn't dare open your eyes as he continued.

"O my love, my wife, Death that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, hath no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd, beauty's ensign yet is crimson in this lips and in thy cheeks, and death's pale flag is not advanced there." Again, he paused, and you heard his footsteps, felt them under the chairs you laid upon as he made his way to where you had abandoned your bag a moment earlier.

"Forgive me, cousin!" he announced, his loud gravelly voice booming around the amphitheatre and causing you to jump softly, "Ah, dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe that unsubstantial Death is amorous, and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour?" He sat down beside you, and took his hand in yours, the digits of his warm skin intertwined with your frozen ones, a warm embrace after the morning's shock.

Your hand was lead to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss upon your knuckle, "For fear of that," he spoke softly, at almost a whisper, "I still will stay with thee, and never from this palace of dim night depart again. Here, here I will remain, with worms that are thy chambermaids; o, Here will I set up my everlasting rest and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh."

His voice increased in volume, now a crescendo of sound as he spoke from his heart, his hands clutching yours, "Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! And, lips," the Professor sighed, and took a moment of time where he set your hand gently on your chest again. "O you the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss, a dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!"

You could hear his movements as he pulled something and held it into the light, a makeshift vial of poison, of which Romeo would end his life with, "Here's to my love!" he drank it in an audible manner, and released it onto the ground, the vial rolling into the audience as it emptied the remnants onto the floor.

"O true apothecary!" Romeo continued, his voice weaker as he stumbled over to your side and smoothed your hair from your face, "Thy drugs are quick... thus with a kiss, I die," you felt the anticipation of his movements, his thought processes and his brainpower as he outweighed his actions. But yet, he placed a kiss upon your lips, only a soft ghost of one, but one which left you with an insatiable desire for more.

"Okay class, we shall skip to the part where Juliet wakes and finds the love of her life on the floor before her," He broke character, his voice still hoarse from the acting, and you counted five seconds before waking up.

Your eyes fluttered open first, the fluorescent lights above you blinding you as you struggled to sit up, "Where is my Romeo?" you asked no one in particular, before Sarah rushed on stage, her copy of the book grasped tight within her hands.

She put her hand on your shoulder before cupping your face softly, "I hear some noise, lady. Come from that nest of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep. A greater power than we can contradict hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away." She attempted to help you up, and you stumbled into her arms half-acting, only to see Professor Pascal laid on the floor, the vial near his hand.

Sarah sighed, "Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; and Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee among a sisterhood of holy nuns. Stay not to question, for the watch is coming. Come go, good Juliet," Sarah, as the Friar, reacted to a noise, just as written in the stage directions before she turned to face you, "I dare no longer stay,"

It was now your time to talk, your throat still raw from screaming music last night, and rendering you as a rather husky Juliet, "Go get thee hence, for I will not away." you softly spoke, and looked over the Professor by your feet, "What's here?" you sunk to your knees, and crawled over to the vial, taking extra caution for the audience to see you, "A cup closed in my true loves hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. O churl, drunk all," 

You held the vial up to the light and let an unsatisfactory breath escape your lips, "And left no friendly drop to help me after?" your eyes started to water as you got a little bit too involved in the scene, "I will kiss thy lips, haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make me die with a restorative."

Once again, you found yourself shaking as you bent down over the professor and placed a hungry kiss upon his chapped lips, "Thy lips are warm," you professed, and withdrew the prop dagger (a retractable blade) from the Professors belt, "O Happy dagger," you smiled whilst inspecting the blade, the last salvage for a pained lover.

"This is thy sheath;" You pressed the blade into your stomach and grunted, acting as though you had done the unthinkable, "there rust... and let me die." You spoke your final words before laying before the professor, intertwining yourself with him as Juliet had done in the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio.

You kept your eyes shut for a while, enjoying the heat the Professor provided, and felt disappointment creeping within your chest when clapping erupted from the audience, with Sarah pulling you to your feet.


End file.
